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<title>The Longest Drive To The World's Dingiest Shop by A_Ghost_Called_Boo</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528770">The Longest Drive To The World's Dingiest Shop</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ghost_Called_Boo/pseuds/A_Ghost_Called_Boo'>A_Ghost_Called_Boo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fic Requests [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Injuries, One (1) Motorcycle Crash, they get mentioned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:21:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ghost_Called_Boo/pseuds/A_Ghost_Called_Boo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jet Star gets into some trouble on his way to Tommy Chow Mein’s and nearly listens to Cherri Cola’s life advice</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jet Star &amp; Party Poison (Danger Days)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fic Requests [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Longest Drive To The World's Dingiest Shop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fic request from tumblr for <a href="https://tasteofamnesia.tumblr.com/">@tasteofamnesia</a> of "Jet Star + author's pick". Author's pick turned out to be action! (sorry, Star)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Okay, so...this is bad. Between having his arm in a sling for two weeks because he fell off the second floor bad and <em>“holy shit, this is bad”</em> bad, Jet would rate going to Tommy’s at 3 am a solid 7 out of <em>“never again”</em>. The need for such a quest, in the first place, had come to him like a vision- sudden and nearly knocking him out, as Poison threw at him the notepad D had left the two while he was away for DJ business, which hit Jet square in the face.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ow! What was that for??“ he said accusatory- because there was no way Poison had “accidently” hit him like that- as he flipped through the weathered pages, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead where the spiral binding had mercilessly attacked him in an attempt to get rid of the spots floating in his vision.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s one more chore left on the list.“ Poison informed suspiciously casual, and as if ey had spoken it into existence Jet’s eyes landed on the task in question: going to Tommy Chow Mein’s for a refill on batteries and duct tap. Right, great, bartering with good old Tommy in an attempt for him not to squeeze you dry of every carbon you have to your name- casual friday stuff.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can it wait until last minute tomorrow?“ the older teen groaned, leaning back in Cherri Cola’s rickety office chair to catch a look at the clock at the wall and wincing when it displays 2:45 am.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hmm, nope.“ the latter replied in a sing-song voice, “And before you ask, no, i can’t do it instead. I still have to put Pone’s glitter collection back in order after the concert on Monday.“</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ughhh, the Witch hates me.“ Jet lamented, getting up and trudging his feet to the door.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The last thing he heard before heading out and getting on his bike to commence on what would be by far one of the worst drives of his life was a simple, deadpan, “That’s rough, buddy.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And that brings us back into the present, where Jet Star is being chased by two rather <em>insistent</em> dracs, shooting at him like they’re giving their best impression of the lasers at a Mad Gear show, and Jet nearly driving straight into a small crater as he tries to shoot back at them. Somehow, this ends up working in his favour, as the drac closest to him doesn’t steer away in time and goes flying off his motorcycle as the front wheel of its bike gets stuck in the hole. The killjoy speeds up, in an attempt to shake off the remaining drac, but a sharp sting in his side makes him instinctively turn around and shoot behind him.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>for the rest of the ride, there’s no more shooting and as the teen stumbles into the store clutching his side at 3:28 am, he slams the remaining carbons from what the Doctor had left him and Poison on the counter and tiredly requests, “Batteries and tape.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tommy remains as unfazed as ever, looking the teen up and down with a bored expression, saying, “I’m going to guess you’ll want some bandages with that as well.” and ducking into the backroom before Jet can object.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s something infinitely strange in the way the cold moon light casts shadows between the makeshift shelves when no one is around- cast at odd angles, too tall and trembling- and if he didn’t know better Jet could’ve sworn for a moment he saw more than one mood perched still tall above the desert scenery. The old windows are covered in decades worth of grime, though, and at this point he’s pretty sure there’s some blood loss happening around the growing wet spot in his side.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As sudden as he’d made himself disappear, Tommy re-appears behind the counter with every thing Jet had requested as well as a roll of bandages, subsequently startling the living daylights out of the young killjoy. If he notices it- which would hard to miss in the first place- the owner doesn’t show it, as he rings up the items to a total of, “25 carbons and 50 cents. Non-negotiable.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Great, just what every ‘joy loves to hear. Jet Star quickly counts the carbons he has and, as it’d be predictable with the luck he’s had that night, he is exactly 50 cents short. He freezes at the realisation, his mind swinging wildly between trying to figure out whether he could make it out of the store with everything he need <em>without</em> Tommy potentially ghosting him and the “advanced bartering techniques” Cherri Cola had shared with him last time he returned from doing whatever it is that Cherri Cola does when he’s not at the station.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jet’s train of though comes to a screeching halt, as a glint of something on the floor catches his eye and he bends down to pick it up despite his wound’s stinging remarks. It’s a small silver coin with a big 50 inside a thin circle indented in both of its faces. For the second time that night, the young killjoy slams down the cash on the counter and finally receives the items he’s been after at Witch-knows-when am.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Triumphantly, and slightly drowsy, Jet Star stumbles out of the shop almost missing Tommy as he says, “Pleasure doing business.” instead of a proper goodbye.</p>
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